


The Ebon Horseman

by Thesseli



Series: The Ebon Lion [2]
Category: Warcraft (2016), Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Blending of movie and game lore, Canon Blending, Death Knight Lothar, F/M, Koltarian, Legion timeline, LionTrust, M/M, Other, Stoutheart Keep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-01 15:29:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10193042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thesseli/pseuds/Thesseli
Summary: Anduin Lothar returns to the world of the living, to take his place as leader of the Four Horseman...and to find the lover he left behind.





	1. Raise the Dead

Had he been asked beforehand, Anduin Lothar would have guessed that having his spirit summoned to the physical world and then placed back into his resurrected, undead body would have hurt, or at least have been slightly unpleasant. But it wasn’t. It was easy, comforting even, like slipping into a warm bath. 

He closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath, savoring it, the first he’d had in years. 

“How are you feeling?” asked the elf, the one who’d given him this second chance. 

Lothar opened his eyes again, looking around uncertainly. Now that he was here, he realized he was surrounded by strangers, including people of multiple races...ones he didn’t recognize, but felt that he should. He remembered the conversation with Arrelon – that was her name, she’d told him that – when he’d been offered this version of his life back...but as she’d said, nothing between that and the time of his death. He glanced at one of the strangers, a blue demon-like creature with curving white horns, and thought again that he should know what she was. 

“I’m…good,” he said at length, and swallowed hard. Actually he felt awkward, unused to his body after all this time without it. Now he was back in the world, the physical world, and he took an unsure step forward. He frowned. Memories of his life, and his death, came flooding back to him. His last memory was of battle, ending with a blinding pain at the side of his head, and he reached up instinctively to where he’d taken that final blow. 

“Don’t worry, it’s been healed. You are whole once again,” the elf assured him. 

“The Deathlord’s magic is very powerful,” added another one of the knights, this one a human man with long white hair and tattoos on his face. 

“Deathlord?” Lothar repeated dubiously, glancing between the two, and then at the others in the small group around them. “That’s a bit melodramatic, don’t you think?” 

She chuckled. “I agree. But then, I didn’t come up with the name, or the title.” 

Lothar reached up again, just to make sure he really was all in one piece, but stopped when he caught sight of his raised arm. He was no longer wearing the armor from his final battle. What he had on now was something much less elaborate, but familiar, as was the timeframe it had come from. It was something from out of his past, from the time the orcs first came to Azeroth, and he didn’t understand. 

“Why this?” he asked, gesturing to himself. This was what he’d been wearing on the day he met Khadgar, he would have recognized it anywhere. But she never could have known that. Shouldn’t bringing someone back from the spirit realm re-create what they’d been wearing when they died? And if not, shouldn’t he have just been naked? He supposed he should be thankful that he wasn’t. “Why these clothes?” 

“I don’t know,” she replied. “Your mind supplied them, the magic just brought them through.” 

Lothar ran his fingers over the leather of his sleeve, then through his hair. It was the wrong length. Just as the armor hadn’t matched what he’d been wearing when he died, neither did this. He pulled some of the strands forward, surprised to see that there was no gray, only brown, and he gazed at the ‘Deathlord’ in confusion. 

“What use would it be if the magic restored a Horseman to their exact physical state at the time of their death?” she said with a shrug, as if she knew what had just passed through his mind. 

“You are not one of the rank-and-file members of our order,” stated another elf, one who stood at the side of the tattooed man. This one looked as if some time had passed between his demise and his resurrection as a death knight. “If you had been raised by a lich and not the Deathlord, I doubt you’d be in such good condition.” 

“You would not be of much use with your skull still smashed in,” the blue demonlike creature pointed out. “But even so, you do not look very much like your statues or portraits.” 

“Those were most likely created when he was older than he currently appears,” mused the man with the tattoos. 

“And when he had much less hair,” the blue woman replied dourly. 

Lothar gazed at the ‘demon’ curiously. She was obviously another death knight, but beyond that, he couldn’t tell. He didn’t even know what race she was. “You seem to know who I am,” he said. “But I’ve never met anyone who looks like you do. Who are you?” 

“This is Xaelaan, one of your fellow Horsemen. She’s a draenei,” said the Deathlord. “Her people fled their homeworld after it was taken over by the Burning Legion, twenty five thousand years in the past. They settled on Draenor, the orcs’ homeworld, several hundred years ago, and lived there peacefully until the Legion found them.” 

“The Legion corrupted the orcs. They almost wiped out my people before we came to Azeroth. But now we will kill them all, every demon that has come here,” the draenei declared. “And then we will chase them back to their own worlds, where they can be killed and not come back. The Legion will fall.” 

The Deathlord nodded solemnly, then glanced at Lothar. “Come with me. We need to get you caught up on current events, and once you’re up to speed, we’ll begin your combat training.” 

“Combat training?” Lothar replied, his eyes narrowed. “I may have been gone for a while, but I’ll have you know my fighting skills haven’t been diminished in the slightest. I’m still one of the most proficient warriors my part of history ever produced, even if I do say so myself.” 

“That may be,” Arrelon replied slyly. “But now you are more, much more, than simply a warrior.” 

“We all are,” the male elf stated. 

“Precisely. And speaking of which, we should be getting back to the Acherus…Koltira, will you do the honors?” 

“Of course, Deathlord.” He bowed his head to her, and then – to Lothar’s surprise – he cast a spell. What he’d assumed was a warrior, albeit an undead one, had actually cast a spell; and Lothar gazed with wide eyes at the shimmering portal before them. 

The elf blinked, his expression smug. “What, did you think the Deathlord was the only member of the Ebon Blade with magic?” 

“We can all use magic,” declared the tattooed man at his side. “And very soon, you will as well.” 

Lothar simply nodded in wonder, and followed the Deathlord through the gate.


	2. Roll the Bones

“Well,” Lothar observed mildly, as he gazed out over the Acherus. “This is creepy.” 

“Forgive us for not redecorating, after freeing ourselves from the Lich King’s control,” replied Koltira dryly. “But we’ve had other things on our minds since then.” 

“Besides, most of these structures are load-bearing, so we can’t get rid of them without the whole place crashing down on us,” Arrelon explained. “We’re not quite sure how to remove any of it safely, but believe me, we’d love to.” 

“Fair enough,” he replied with a shrug, his glowing blue eyes taking in more of the sights as they moved from the balcony to the interior. He was having a hard time trying not to stare. Lothar had already known that many non-Alliance races were part of the Ebon Blade, including unfamiliar ones, but it was still a surprise to see so many here…and interacting peacefully at that. Orcs, trolls, beings that resembled bipedal cattle…even strange bearlike creatures were among the assembled knights who greeted the party upon their return. 

The delegation that had come with the offer to raise him had been made up mostly of humans and dwarves, Lothar had noted, and none of the races he’d fought in the past. He was sure this was intentional, as they would want their newly-risen Horseman to feel at ease when he took his first steps back into the world of the living. He wondered if they’d thought he might raise a weapon against a troll or an orc, especially if he’d been more disoriented after his rebirth.

“Lothar!” a deep voice bellowed. “Anduin Lothar, is that really you?” 

Lothar stopped in his tracks, his head swiveling towards the sound of the echoing voice that was both familiar and unfamiliar. A huge figure stepped forward from the shadows inside the Acherus. “Ancestors take me, I knew that was you!” 

Lothar’s eyes widened. Again, he still wasn’t used to seeing orcs here…but to see one that he actually recognized? He never would have believed it. But here he was, right before Lothar’s eyes, and this time he did stare.

“Durotan?” He could barely believe what he was seeing. 

The orc laughed heartily, striding forward. “When I heard the Deathlord was going to offer you the gift of return, I’d hoped you would take it. There are far too few of us old-timers left!” 

Arrelon watched the interchange between the two, obviously pleased. “Lothar, I see you remember Durotan, the former leader of the Frostwolf clan…and now, a knight of the Ebon Blade and one of your fellow Horsemen.” 

“Our second most recent addition, in fact,” added the draenei Xaelaan.

“Come with us,” the Deathlord said to the still-flabbergasted human. “Now that you’re here, you need to learn what it means to be a death knight, and to be part of the Ebon Blade. Our history, as well as the history of our world since the time of your death. You’ll be introduced to more of our people, as well as those we work closely with, and you’ll receive your first combat training as a death knight,” she pronounced. “But first, a good meal and good ale. You have to keep up your strength – you’ll need it, for the fight to come.”


	3. Seize the Day

Lothar’s training as a death knight and Horseman proceeded rapidly. Aside from being very quick on the uptake when it came to combat, he was eager to learn what had been happening on Azeroth (and Outland, and on the alternate version of Draenor) since the time of his death. The concept of different timelines was confusing, but everything had been explained to him in a way that made sense. He’d also learned about the problems between the factions over the years, and how they’d been overcome…or not, as the case might be. At least the order halls seemed fairly peaceful, especially that of the Ebon Blade. 

During his training, Lothar had gotten to know many of his fellow death knights, even bonding with some of them. Durotan, for example. Lothar never would have thought it possible to get close to an orc, any orc, but the more he got to know the Frostwolf chieftain the more he realized how much in common they had. Durotan had told him about his earlier life in Outland, before the demons invaded – before they even knew that demons existed – and how much it changed after they had. Durotan spoke about how the Frostwolves had initially resisted joining Gul’dan’s Horde, but that once he’d realized their entire world was dying, he knew he had to do what was best for his tribe. He had to keep them alive. Lothar could understand that, and respect it. 

Of course, most of Lothar’s time post-resurrection had gone towards learning to fight as a death knight. It was strange, to think of himself as a spellcaster now, but this was very different from the arcane that Khadgar had used. And as he became more skilled with both his runeblades and his new magic, he learned more about the Ebon Blade, and what it meant to be a death knight. How he could heal himself, and how he needed to kill. His instructors had told him to never let the need become too great, or he could become a danger to the people around him; but that this was very unlikely, given the sheer number of demons in the area. And even if there were no demons, there was always the local wildlife. The Ebon Blade made sure nobody went hungry while they were around. The refugees fleeing Suramar City were always grateful for any extra food. 

“You’ve done very well, Lord Lothar,” said Thassarian, who’d come up to the training area to watch the end of that day’s sparring. “The Deathlord is quite pleased with you. You’ve certainly lived up to your reputation.” 

“Thanks,” he replied. “It feels good to move around again, even though I don’t remember all those years of not moving. It's nice to swing a sword again.” 

“Yes…and let me compliment you on your choice of the Frost discipline as your main area of specialization. I’ve found it to be the most useful of the three. Durotan too.” 

“I am a Frostwolf, after all,” the orc replied, smiling slightly. “It seemed fitting.” 

Lothar couldn’t help but agree. “I do like the Blood specialty as well. I felt it was a good second choice – I like having the option to protect my friends as well as slaughter my enemies.” He paused for a moment. “I really didn’t like the thought of Unholy, to be honest. Or having a ghoul as a minion.” 

One of the goblin death knights who’d been helping him train nodded. “I totally get what you’re saying, Lothar. Ghouls are gross.” She made a face. “I mean, if I wanted to have a smelly, incoherent, shambling clod following me around, I’d have a husband!” she guffawed. 

Durotan folded his arms and looked at Lothar. “I believe our gender has just been insulted.” 

“Terrix, be nice,” chuckled a Pandaren knight – Kimari Lightpaw, the final member of the Horseman that Lothar had been introduced to, although she was the second to be raised by the Deathlord. She was the oldest of the four by far. One of the first monks, she’d fought the Mogu thousands of years ago, and she was just as eager to take on the Burning Legion now. 

Lothar just grinned at the goblin. “No offense taken, short stuff.” Terrix was unfailingly cheerful. Like Kimari, she was a master of the blood discipline, and the first of the Ebon Blade to show Lothar that ‘small’ did not equal ‘less of a threat’. 

“Speak for yourself,” rumbled Durotan, although his tone was equally jovial. “The tiny one has a big mouth for someone so small. But then, you’re probably used to that already, aren’t you Lothar?” 

This made Lothar laugh out loud. “Khadgar was never ‘tiny’.” It was no secret that his acceptance of revival had been contingent on the mage still being alive. 

“He seemed tiny to me…but then, you all seem tiny to me. Except maybe the tauren and worgen,” he replied, looking out over the group of death knights. “But still, Khadgar had a smart mouth, even as an untested Kirin Tor runaway.” 

“And now, it’s like he’s everyone’s sassy grampa!” Terrix enthused. “No wonder you were such good friends with him, Lothar…but I’ll tell you this – it’s a good thing I’m already dead, because between you and him, I don’t think I could survive that much sass!” 

“Speaking of which,” said Thassarian, with what looked like a sly glint in his eyes. “The Deathlord says that, as of today, your training is complete. Your official duties will be starting in three days, but until then, your time is your own. You can take your leave anywhere you’d like…although she highly recommends Dalaran.” 

“Dalaran?” Lothar asked. “Why there?” 

“Oh, didn’t she tell you?” Thassarian’s expression was one of utmost innocence. “She’s arranged a meeting between you and Archmage Khadgar – the Guardian’s Chamber, Dalaran, tomorrow at noon.”


	4. Face the Raven

Lothar glared down at his third mug of ale, frowning. He didn’t want to admit it, but now that he was so close to seeing Khadgar again, he was nervous. 

Earlier in the day, Arrelon and Xaelaan had both assured him there was nothing to be worried about. That Khadgar had nothing against death knights, and that he’d actually been one of the first people to show kindness to members of their order when they’d arrived in Shattrath City years before. The Ebon Blade had worked with him many times over the years, they’d said, and would continue to do so. As leader of the Four Horsemen, Lothar would necessarily be working closely with Khadgar and the rest of the Council of Six, and there was no reason to believe there would be any problems in the future. 

“You’ll get to see your old friend again,” Koltira had said to him. “I’ve learned, over the years, that we all must be thankful for second chances like this. They are few and far between, and not everyone is lucky enough to get one.” 

Lothar had said something agreeable at that; and then excused himself, wishing to spend some time alone with his thoughts. And then with a drink or three, once his thoughts became too oppressive. 

The former regent lord of Stormwind thought back to his first day of his new existence, and how strange his own voice had sounded to him. At first he’d put it down to being dead for so long, but he soon realized his voice had taken on the same resonant quality as the other death knights’. Somehow, this seemed more important now. Because between his voice, his skin, and especially his eyes, he knew he was forever marked as something no longer living. 

//What if Khadgar doesn’t want me anymore?// he thought to himself. //Hell, what if he doesn’t want *anyone* that way anymore? He’s a lot older now…what if he’s moved on, or worse, forgotten about me?// He poured out more of the ale. //What if Khadgar’s disgusted at what I am now? That I’m undead?// This was his greatest fear. Since his resurrection, Lothar had experienced the urge that all death knights felt, even those who had never been part of the Scourge – as well as the pain that came with resisting it. With going too long without taking a life. It was disturbing. 

In the past, he would have felt relief at killing an enemy. Now, he felt…sated. 

How could Khadgar ever love him again, knowing this was now part of who and what he was? 

Lothar took another deep drink from his tankard, cursing the increased tolerance he also shared with the rest of the death knights. 

There were footsteps outside the door to his quarters then, followed by a knock. “Lord Lothar, are you awake?” 

“Yes…come in, Thass,” he replied. “And please, just call me Lothar. Or Anduin.” The company would probably do him good. He’d decided on the first day of his new life that he liked Thassarian. There was something down to earth about him, but it wasn’t just that – he could sense a kindred spirit in the man from Lordaeron. He was a warrior, he was loyal…and he loved another man. Since his resurrection, Lothar had been surprised to learn this was much more (publicly) acceptable now than when he’d begun his relationship with Khadgar – although given the romances between members of different species and factions now, it made sense. He and Khadgar had gone to great lengths to hide the truth about themselves; but now, he wondered if anyone would even bat an eye if they learned the truth about him and the former Guardian Novitiate. 

The human death knight regarded him for a moment. “If you’re trying to drink enough ale to get yourself to sleep, it won’t work. You’ll be up and down half a dozen times to pee before morning,” he observed, and then produced a large bottle of something clear. “Try this. It could put hair on a naga’s chest, and it’s bound to soothe your nerves.” 

Lothar eyeballed the bottle for a moment, and then poured out a glass for both of them. “What makes you think that’s what I want to do?” he asked casually. 

The other man snorted, picking up his drink. “The look on your face when the Deathlord said you were to meet with Archmage Khadgar tomorrow – it was the same look I had when we were about to rescue Koltira,” he declared. He’d been present when Arrelon told Lothar the story of their secret, surreptitious visit to the Undercity, and how she and Thassarian had freed the elf from his captivity. “Saving Koltira was something I wanted dearly, of course, but at the same time, I had no idea how he’d react to seeing me again. Especially since…” He looked away for a moment, as if he was ashamed. “Especially since it was my truce with him at Andorhal that led to his imprisonment by Sylvanas…as well as me being the reason he’s a death knight in the first place.” Thassarian took a deep, deep drink from his glass. “I was the one who killed him, you know.” 

Lothar blinked. He’d known Thassarian and Koltira had become friends while they were part of the Scourge, but not that the human had been responsible for the elf’s death. He tried to hide his surprise by taking a drink himself; the clear liquor burned like dwarven whiskey, only stronger, and Lothar expected it had the same effect on the undead as whiskey would on a normal human. Whatever this stuff was, it was powerful – probably made by and for death knights. “That was when you were under the Lich King’s control. You weren’t responsible for what you did,” he stated. 

“Wasn’t I?” Thassarian replied, a trace of bitterness in his voice. “The first time I met Koltira, I let him go. I managed to exert enough free will, then, to spare his life. But when I encountered him again…” He shook his head. “I wasn’t strong enough.” 

“But he’s obviously forgiven you, assuming he ever blamed you at all.” Since arriving on the Acherus, Lothar had seen the two in each other’s company often enough to know this was true. 

“That may be so,” Thassarian admitted, pouring himself more of the drink they were sharing. “And Koltira can be very forgiving. Still, it wasn’t exactly the most auspicious first meeting in the history of romance.” 

Lothar chuckled. “And here I thought my first meeting with Khadgar was bad.” 

“Oh?” The other man seemed intrigued. “What happened then?” 

Lothar took another long drink. He was starting to feel pleasantly tipsy. “I slammed him down on a table and pinned him there with a metal compass.” 

“What?!” Thassarian exclaimed. “You actually did that? To the *Archmage*?”

“He wasn’t an Archmage then,” Lothar replied loftily. “He’d broken into the barracks in Stormwind and was poking around the bodies of some of our fallen soldiers. We assumed he was a thief, or something even more disreputable.” 

Thassarian shook his head. “I cannot imagine anyone manhandling the Archmage like that,” he laughed. 

“He was just a kid then – couldn’t even grow a decent beard, although he tried to, to make himself look older.” Lothar smiled at the fond memories. “And…now he really is older. What if he doesn’t remember me, or doesn’t want anything to do with me?” 

“I don’t think that’s going to happen, Lothar,” he said, sounding just as tipsy as Lothar felt. “You know why?” 

“Why?” he countered. 

“Because, Anduin Lothar, I grew up on stories about the heroes who fought to protect our world, and you and Khadgar were right at the top of that list,” he declared. “The bravery and loyalty you both exhibited, especially for each other…it’s obvious you meant a great deal to him, and he to you. And that’s not something that fades with time. You’ve heard about all the things Khadgar did after you died, and how so much of it was incredibly risky, even foolhardy?” he challenged. “He did all that for you, for your memory. It was all for you.” Thassarian smiled, and took another drink. “So go to him tomorrow, with no fear or doubt in your heart. Be the leader of the Four Horsemen, be the Lion of Azeroth…but even more importantly, be the man Khadgar fell in love with, the man who inspired him to fight, and to keep fighting, even in his darkest hours.”


	5. Sail the Skies

“You look fine,” Terrix declared once again, as they stood on the balcony of the Acherus. 

“I didn’t ask how I looked, now or before,” Lothar replied, frowning a little. He was still nervous about seeing Khadgar again, but he thought he’d hidden it well. Was it really that obvious? 

“You didn’t need to ask,” the goblin stated, hands on her hips. “It’s written all over your face.” 

Lothar snorted, gazing out over the railing towards Dalaran. The view was incredible, and he was awed once more at the sheer power it must have taken to move the entire city to its current position. Knowing Khadgar had directed the spell that had saved so many lives made him proud. He hadn’t let on most of the time, but in the past, Khadgar’s magic had always impressed him, and this…this was beyond impressive. 

“She’s right, you know,” said Thassarian, coming up beside them. “You look fine. You don’t even look hung over, which is rather amazing considering what you drank last night.” 

“Jealous, Thass?” Terrix teased. 

“Frankly, yes.” The human rubbed his head. “I’ll be having another healing potion once we’re done seeing Lothar off. Which reminds me…why aren’t you in Dalaran yet?” he asked, jabbing a finger at the other man’s chest. 

“I still have time, the meeting’s not until noon, and–”

“And the leader of the Four Horseman doesn’t like portals,” Terrix finished. “So the Deathlord’s arranged for him to fly over on some kind of fancy-schmancy mount, and make a real grand entrance that’s specifically designed to impress everyone in the city.” She glanced over her shoulder, then waved to the blonde as she approached. “Speak of the devil.” 

“Hello,” said Arrelon. She was positively beaming at Lothar. “Those arrangements for your flight into Dalaran? Made and finalized. I think this will be a great way of re-introducing the Horsemen to Azeroth, this time as a force for good. And what better introduction than the leader of the Horsemen sailing over the floating city, the banner of the Ebon Blade flying behind him, and then landing at the flightmaster’s perch for everyone to see?” 

“And in that beautiful new armor, too,” said Terrix. “What a way to make an entrance!” 

“The armor does look nice, doesn’t it?” Lothar mused. The armor, at least, he wasn’t worried about. Newly forged, deep blue edged with gold, and emblazoned with the symbols of the Ebon Blade…along with the lion emblem of Stormwind and the Alliance. He had to admit, it looked good. 

“It’s gorgeous,” the goblin stated. “Now you just need transportation to match.” She gazed up at the Deathlord expectantly. “So, Arrelon, where is it? Where’s this spectacular ride you’ve found for the leader of our Horsemen?” 

Another goblin stepped into view. “That would be me.” 

Terrix’s face fell. “Oh no, Lothar can’t go to Dalaran on a rocketplane – those things are rickety and dangerous! Trust me, I used to fly one!” 

“Don’t worry, he won’t be going by rocketplane. I’m going to take him,” the other goblin replied brightly. 

“You’re going to take him?” she said, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “I’m sorry, but we can’t go around entrusting the safety of Lord Lothar to just anyone. May I ask who you are, and what flight qualifications you have?” 

“Of course,” she said. “I’m called Blixx, but my full name is Belericgosa,” here she bowed, and her form shimmered, the blue of her hair taking on an arcane brightness before spreading to envelop her entire body. A moment later, a large, azure-blue dragon was standing before them. She spread her wings and spoke again, a trace of mischief in her voice. “And these are my flight qualifications.”


	6. Meet the Challenge

Terrix’s jaw dropped, but she regained her composure quickly. “Well…I *suppose* those qualifications are sufficient,” she conceded, as if goblin-shapeshifted winged reptiles were something she saw every day. “Just get pretty-boy here to Dalaran safely and on time, that’s all I care about.” 

“Of course,” the Blue replied graciously, turning her gaze to the leader of the Horsemen. “Are you ready for your visit to Dalaran, Lord Lothar?” she asked, all traces of her goblin accent gone. 

Lothar nodded, still trying to get used to the fact that not only was there a dragon – a sentient and clearly friendly dragon – not three feet away from him, but that evidently the Deathlord was on close enough terms with the creature to request a favor from her. Still, those things could be put on the back burner in favor of something that demanded his more immediate attention. “Pretty boy?” he repeated back to Terrix indignantly. 

Her tiny hands were on her tiny hips again. “You can’t deny that you’re decorative,” she stated. 

Thassarian tried unsuccessfully to stifle a chuckle, and Lothar glared at him as he climbed onto the dragon’s back. “Normally this is where we would say ‘suffer well’…but in this case, I think I’d rather say good luck,” Thassarian said. “Not that you’re going to need it.” He clasped Lothar’s shoulder. “You were always an inspiration to me. To alot of us, actually, but to me especially. You know why. So don’t worry, you’ll do fine.” 

“Thanks,” Lothar replied, thinking about their conversation the night before. “And thank you too, Arrelon, for everything. I’ll do my best to make the Horsemen something we can all be proud of.” 

“You already have,” she replied, smiling warmly at him. “Now...to Dalaran!” 

“Here we go!” cried Belericgosa; and Lothar felt her body tense, then release like a spring as she launched herself into the air to the rousing cheers of the Ebon Blade. It was wonderful to fly again, it was something he’d missed. In many ways it was like riding a gryphon, but it still felt strange to fly on something – someone – that was technically and unequivocally another person. 

“Thank you for taking me to Dalaran,” he said, as he considered the implications of his latest insight. “I should have thanked you before, actually. How did Arrelon manage to talk you into this?” 

“Oh, she didn’t have to talk me into anything…we go way back. And when I heard about the big entrance she’d planned for the re-introduction of the Horsemen…well, Arrelon always did go for grand gestures,” she said. “Besides, what’s life without a little pageantry?” 

Lothar grinned, and listened intently as the dragon described the sights beneath them as they circled the floating city. In addition to giving the citizens below them a show of aerial acrobatics, it also gave Lothar some background into the people and places of today’s Dalaran. 

“There’s the Chamber of the Guardian,” Belericgosa said, as she swooped in low to give her charge a better view. “Once we land, go there and announce yourself. Show them your credentials from the Ebon Blade, and they’ll let you through to see Khadgar.” 

Lothar raised an eyebrow. “I thought they knew I was coming.” 

“They know the emissary of the Ebon Blade is coming; they don’t know the specifics of who you are.” 

“What, you mean Arrelon never told either them or Khadgar that it’s me who’ll be meeting with him today?” he asked incredulously. 

“Grand gestures, remember?” Belericgosa reminded him. “She’s going for maximum impact here, in every way. And also, she probably didn’t want to disturb the Archmage’s sleep by telling him in advance it would be you. Knowing Khadgar, he would have been up all night trying to figure out the perfect ‘welcome back to life’ gift for you.” 

Lothar felt his grip tighten on the handhold of the tack, but it had nothing to do with the dragon circling back to the flightmaster’s perch. //Khadgar didn’t know.// Khadgar didn’t know that his long-dead lover had been raised as a death knight, or that he was now the leader of the most powerful cadre within the Ebon Blade, second only to Highlord Darion Mograine and the Deathlord herself. How would the mage react when he saw him? 

Belericgosa landed with a flourish, the wind from her wings fluttering the Ebon Blade’s banner as she finally touched down. As Arrelon had predicted, all eyes were upon them. “How’s that for an entrance?” she whispered to him. 

He patted her neck as he dismounted. “It was spectacular. Thank you again.” 

He turned to face the group of citizens, both Alliance and Horde, who’d seen his flight in and who’d come here upon his arrival. 

“I am Lord Anduin Lothar, leader of the Four Horsemen and emissary of the Deathlord of the Knights of the Ebon Blade,” he announced, gazing out at them evenly. “I am here to meet with Archmage Khadgar of the Council of Six.” 

An old man in the robes of the Kirin Tor stepped up then. “Lord Lothar,” he said, wide-eyed – he obviously knew who Lothar was, or who he’d been before his death so many years ago. “It’s an honor, sir. You have done more for Azeroth than you could ever know.” He bowed deeply. “I will escort you to the meeting site.” 

“Thank you,” he replied, his voice resonating in the manner of all death knights. Right now, to Lothar’s ears, it sounded confident and strong, exactly how a leader and commander should be. No matter that his undead heart was pounding in his chest, or that he wished he’d had the foresight to bring a flask of Thassarian’s liquor along with him this morning. But still, this was the moment he’d been waiting for since his resurrection. For good or for ill, he was finally about to see his beloved mage once again. 

And with that, the leader of the Four Horsemen left Krasus’s Landing, striding purposefully towards the heart of the city and the Chamber of the Guardian.


	7. Ride the Lion

Lothar was ushered into the Chamber of the Guardian, with assurances that the Archmage would be with him shortly. The man who’d escorted him said it would just be a few moments while he was announced, and then vanished in a burst of arcane energy. 

//Mages, always so flashy,// Lothar mused, willing himself not to pace. He settled for clasping his hands in front of himself and gazing around the room. It was ostentatious, like most of the buildings in the floating city, and he wondered briefly why Khadgar had been given ownership of this place even though he still adamantly refused the position of Guardian. But before he could think too much on it, the representative of the Kirin Tor reappeared.

“The Archmage will see you now,” he said, and gestured towards a set of glowing blue glyphs that had appeared on the floor. 

Lothar frowned. Another damn portal. They were much more common these days than they’d been in the past; still, he’d hoped to get away with not needing to use any of the blasted things. But if this one would bring him to Khadgar, he would just have to close his eyes and take it. Squeezing his eyes shut, he stepped into the glowing circle; there was a moment of disorientation, and when he opened his eyes again he was in another ostentatious room. 

He heard a sharp intake of breath then, and turned towards its source. And there he was, staring at him with wide eyes. Khadgar. 

A shock ran through Lothar. He’d known what to expect, he’d seen pictures from some of those newfangled camera things, but it hadn’t fully prepared him to see his lover in the flesh. His mage looked older, so much older than when they’d met. 

Lothar didn’t care one bit. Was Khadgar still his mage, though? 

“Anduin,” he whispered, seemingly frozen in place. The man looked as though he’d seen a ghost, and in a way, he had. “Anduin, is it really you?” 

“Khadgar,” he said hopefully. “Khadgar, it’s me. I’m here.” 

“He said it was you…” the mage trailed off, overwhelmed at the sight before him. “I didn’t believe him. I didn’t think it was possible. But now…” He shook his head, eyes glistening, and in that moment he looked and sounded like the boy he’d been when they’d met. There was anguish in his voice when he spoke again. “You died.” 

“It’s me, I’m really here,” said Lothar again, taking a step forward. And somehow, even though he had no conscious memory of the intervening years between his death and resurrection, he could still feel the ache of all those years of longing for his lover deep in his bones. In his heart. “I came back. For you.” 

“You did?” There was a cautious look of hope on the other man’s features, easily recognizable even on the older face. “For me?” 

Lothar nodded, his arms extending of their own volition towards the mage. A moment later there was a flash of blue, and Lothar was pulled into a fierce embrace. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, Anduin,” Khadgar breathed, burying his face against Lothar’s chest, just like he used to do. “We knew the Ebon Blade was raising new death knights, but I never dreamed you might be one of them.” Lothar just held him, rubbing his hands up and down Khadgar’s back, relishing the closeness; and he took the opportunity to press kisses to the top of the other man’s head. “Anduin…” He pulled back slightly, overjoyed, resting his hand against the other man’s cheek. “Light, look at you. You look exactly like you did the day we met, except…” His joyful smile faded, his brow creasing as he gazed into the other man’s luminous blue eyes. 

//Except for my eyes. My skin.// 

This was going to hurt. 

Lothar reached out to him, settling his other hand over Khadgar’s. “I love you, Khadgar. I always have, and I always will,” he declared solemnly. He couldn’t help himself; now that he was back in his lover’s presence, all of his innermost secrets were spilling out. “I know how hard it must be to see me like this…raised by dark magic, not really alive, but not really dead either. And a killer…I have to kill to survive now, just like any other death knight. But I still want to help you, and help all of Azeroth – I want to drive out the Burning Legion, defeat them once and for all.” He swallowed hard. “And I want you to know that even if you’ve moved on, even if you’re revolted by what I am now, I will keep on loving you, no matter what. Nothing can change that.” 

Khadgar was staring at him now, a look of disbelief on his face. “Light, Anduin, how could you think I could ever move on? I loved you before, and I’ve loved you every single day since your death. I don’t care that you’re a death knight now, all I’ve ever wanted was you.” He blinked away the moisture in his eyes, gazing at Lothar sadly. “But how could you still want me, after all this time? I mean, look at me…” He shook his head. “I look old enough to be your father.” 

In response, Lothar just pulled him closer and kissed him deeply. “So what?” Lothar countered, running his fingers through the other man’s hair. “We didn’t care about that sort of thing when I looked old enough to be *your* father.” 

This earned him a faint smile. “You never looked *that* much older than me, Anduin,” Khadgar protested, but he was silenced by another kiss. And now that his fears had been allayed, Khadgar was becoming more responsive, relaxing into the kiss before returning it eagerly. 

Lothar’s eyes closed, blinking away his own tears now. If Khadgar had rejected him, it would have been like dying. Again. But this was real, this was his beloved mage in his arms once again, making the same declarations of love he had years ago, decades ago. It was overwhelming. It was all Lothar had wanted since his resurrection; it meant everything to him. Literally.

“Khadgar,” he choked out. “I love you. I need to know you’re here with me,” he ran his hands down the other man’s back to his waist, then his hips, “I need to touch you.” 

The mage pulled back slightly, his breathing rapid. “Anduin,” he began hesitantly. “As much as I would love to feel you inside me again, it’s been so long – so many, many years for me – I don’t think I can, at least not yet…”

“That won’t be a problem,” Lothar assured him, pulling his mage closer. He wouldn’t push Khadgar into something he wasn’t ready for...he never had, and he never would. “Because what I want most right now is to feel you inside *me*.” This earned him an expectant, almost hungry look, and he winked. “Even though it may have been decades for you, for me – and my body – it feels like it was last week.” He smiled slyly. “Can you teleport us to your bedroom?” 

“I thought you hated teleporting,” Khadgar said, smiling back at him, the fiery blue of the arcane already sparking in his eyes and his fingertips. 

Lothar kissed him again. “For you, my love, I will make an exception.”


	8. Find the Future

Many hours later, Lothar awoke. Even after all these years, his mage could still exhaust him; and he stretched luxuriously, totally and utterly content. It had felt so good to be with Khadgar once again, to hold him, to make love with him. His body had welcomed his partner’s return as if no time had gone by at all. 

No domination, physical or emotional. Just closeness, togetherness. Love. The perfect give and take between them that they’d always had. 

He stretched again, turning over to find Khadgar already awake, and gazing at him fondly. “And to think most people believe death knights don’t sleep.” 

“We can, we just don’t have to,” Lothar replied lazily. He knew Khadgar was still as hungry for knowledge as he’d ever been, so he elaborated. “Arthas didn’t want his death knights doing anything that might have weakened his control, and his control was only over the conscious part of their minds. So anything that would affect this negatively was forbidden. Everything below that he couldn’t touch, though, so it got pushed deep down. But it was still there.” 

“Waiting to come bubbling up if the grip of the rational mind was weakened, either through intoxication or dreaming while asleep,” Khadgar mused. “Ingenious. Evil, but ingenious.” 

“I could never give up sleeping,” added Lothar, draping an arm around his lover. His muscles were sore, but in a very good way. “Especially now. If you keep wearing me out like this, I’ll need all the recovery time I can get.” 

The mage grinned. “I guess the theory that death knights don’t sleep has officially been put to bed.” 

Lothar rolled his eyes. “There’s that sass Terrix warned me about.” 

“Sass?” Khadgar repeated innocently. “I prefer to think of it as wittiness.” 

“Your bad puns are witty?” Lothar teased. 

The Archmage just laughed. “Kiss me, Anduin,” he said, shifting closer. 

Lothar chuckled, and did as he was told. “After all this time, still so bossy in bed.” 

His lover just snorted and wrapped his arms even more tightly around him. “How long before you have to go back to the Acherus?” he asked, pressing a kiss to a spot just above Lothar’s collarbone. “Because I don’t think I can give you up just yet.” 

“Don’t worry, I’m not due back for a while. The Deathlord gave me a few days off, and suggested that I spend them in Dalaran.” 

Khadgar pulled back slightly, his brow furrowed. “Does she know about us?” he asked. 

“I’m guessing she figured it out,” Lothar replied. “Which probably wasn’t too hard, given that you being alive was my sole prerequisite for agreeing to be raised.” He took one of Khadgar’s hands in his. “Don’t worry, she can be very discreet. She’s not going to tell anyone who doesn’t already know.” 

“Other people know too?” The mage regarded him dubiously. “Who else?” 

Lothar ran his fingers through Khadgar’s hair, hoping to soothe any doubts he might have. “Just a few. And to be fair, Thassarian worked it out on his own years ago.” 

“Thassarian? The young man who’s with Koltira Deathweaver, he’s known for *years*?” he asked in disbelief.

Lothar nodded. “He said he’d always suspected it. And that it made him feel a little less alone, growing up in Lordaeron, where loving another man wasn’t exactly welcomed.” 

Khadgar seemed to accept this. “So if he knows, Koltira will know too,” he stated. “Anyone else? Just so I know what I can and can’t say in front of people?” 

Lothar shrugged. “Just a few others, mostly the people who helped me train – Xaelaan and Terrix and Durotan, along with anyone else who might have figured it out along the way. Not that I care. It’s not like it used to be, Khadgar. Loving someone of the same sex doesn’t earn you condemnation or pity like it did in Lordaeron after we evacuated.” 

“I know, but…” The Archmage blinked, as if he’d suddenly just heard what Lothar had said. “I’m sorry, but did you say Durotan?” 

The former regent lord couldn’t hold back a smile, secretly pleased that he could still rattle his lover just a bit. “Yes. Durotan is part of the Ebon Blade now. And he’s not just a death knight – he was raised by the Deathlord as one of the Four Horsemen. The third of us, right before me, in fact,” Lothar said. “Oh, and he sends his regards, by the way. He’d love to chat with you again. Catch up. And he promises it won’t be a repeat of your first encounter.” 

The mage’s lips curled up into a smile of his own. “You know, Durotan was much gentler with me when we first met than you were,” he pointed out. 

Lothar ruffled Khadgar’s hair. Maybe he could convince him to grow it a little longer, like it used to be - he missed his mage’s adorable bedhead. “Don’t worry, I was reprimanded by Thassarian for mistreating a future Archmage…he asked how we met, and I told him. He seemed utterly scandalized that you’d been ‘manhandled’ in such a manner.” 

Khadgar laughed. Then his expression turned thoughtful. “Durotan. I suppose he’s been told about his son, and all his accomplishments?” 

“Thrall? I mean, Go’el?” he corrected himself. “Yes, yes he has. And Durotan’s so proud of him, Khadgar, you have no idea. You can see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice, every time he talks about him.” He paused. “But then, fathers are always proud of their children.” Lothar felt an unexpected tightening in his throat at that, and looked away for a moment. 

“Anduin,” said Khadgar, moving closer to him, deeper into his embrace. “I know this isn’t easy to talk about, and I don’t know if you’ve even considered this yet, but…have you talked to the Deathlord about Callan?” he asked softly. 

“I have,” he confessed. “It would depend on if he agrees to be raised, of course, and I would respect his decision either way…but first, we would have to find his body. Or what’s left of it.” His eyes closed almost involuntarily. “The magic the Deathlord wields requires a certain degree of…physical presence…to contact someone in the spirit realm. Without that, there’s no way to talk to someone who’s died, and no way to bring them back.” He ran a hand down Khadgar’s side, letting his lover’s warmth ground him. “That’s why Varian hasn’t been offered the choice yet, the Ebon Blade is still looking for his body. It’s the same with Durotan’s wife Draka.” Lothar shook his head. “Durotan said that every orc who’d come through the Dark Portal knew where he’d died…but no-one knew where his wife had.” He linked his fingers with Khadgar’s then. “But wherever it happened…at least she was able to get their son to safety before she fell.” 

Khadgar squeezed his hand. “Azeroth owes her a debt of gratitude, then. Go’el is one of the finest, most noble individuals I’ve ever met, of any race,” he declared. 

“Mm.” Lothar didn’t want to dwell on the past, though. “If Callan or Varian or anyone else wants to come back, and we can offer them the choice, then so be it. If not, well…at least we know they’re at peace.” 

Khadgar’s expression softened. “Were you at peace, Anduin?” he asked gently. “And did you give up that peace for me?” 

Lothar kissed him. “I couldn’t have been, if I was away from you. It was my choice, and I do not regret it.” 

Khadgar settled back into Lothar’s arms. “Choice. The difference between Arthas’s death knights and those of the Ebon Blade,” he murmured. “I’m glad you came back, Anduin. And knowing you came back for me? It’s…well, it’s overwhelming, to say the least.” 

“I hope you never doubt that what I did, I did for you,” he replied. “And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” 

He smiled. “You make me feel young again.” 

“And you make me feel alive again.” 

Khadgar cocked his head, gazing at him curiously. “You really don’t mind that I’ve gotten old?” he asked. 

“Older. Not old, older. And not at all,” Lothar stated. “You don’t mind that I’m dead?” 

“Undead,” Khadgar corrected. “And no, of course not.” 

“That’s good. I was worried at first. I know I don’t look like I used to.” 

“Anduin, you look exactly like you used to.” 

“Not my eyes,” he replied, still self-conscious at the change in them now. “You always told me how much you loved them, and now, they’re different.” He cupped the other man’s cheek. “I remember when you told me that you’d never seen a more beautiful blue.” 

“And I hadn’t,” stated Khadgar, resting a hand over Lothar’s. “At least, not until now.” 

The kindness in his partner’s words touched his heart. “I love you, Khadgar.” 

“I love you too, Anduin.” He wrapped his arms around Lothar and then rolled onto his back, pulling the other man towards him. “And I want to show you just how much.” He smiled mischievously, his expression a perfect match for the one he’d worn the first time the two had made love, all those years ago. “It’s a good thing you’re not due back for a few days, because that is exactly how long I’m planning to keep you in my bed.” 

Lothar let himself be pulled down against Khadgar’s body, both men’s arousal already evident. “I’m counting on it, my love. I’m counting on it.”


End file.
